Denial
by Ersatz Einstein
Summary: You only see what you want to through painted eyes. An AU version of the third movie in which the gang was right about Andy's intentions and Sunnyside.
1. Chapter 1

"Would you take those toys to the trash?"

A simple sentence. Eight words, heard two rooms away (they'd never bothered to measure in feet.) The voice was muffled, but familiarity made it stand out. It was the voice of a young boy – man – about 18 years old. Andy Davis. He had light brown hair and warm, light eyes. He was going to study engineering in college, but when he was a kid, he'd wanted to be a cowboy.

"_Would you take those toys to the trash?"_

Eight words, but with those words, he erased it all. Every playtime. Every adventure, whether in space or the Wild West. Every triumph over the forces of evil. Every memory. That's all they were, after all. Memories.

"_Would you take those toys to the trash?"_

Of course, the signs had been there. Heck, Jessie had seen it coming as soon as they'd gotten her. Bo Peep and most of Molly's other toys had been sold years ago. As for Andy… He'd kept most of it, but the odd toy tended to vanish here and there. No one important. Just a toy clown one day, Wheezy the next… All disappearing as quickly as if picked off by a sniper. That didn't matter too much to Andy. They were just background characters, after all, and his favorites, his stars, would never suffer the same fate. At least that's what Woody said.

"_Would you take those toys to the trash?"_

Woody was the leader, after all, and it wasn't just because he was Andy's favorite. He was intelligent, resourceful, and usually right. He always had a plan, and he had a way of making the toughest situation seem manageable. And he was certain about this. Andy would always love them. He'd never abandon them. And even if the toys didn't share Woody's confidence, they were sure that he could handle anything.

Now, however, Woody wasn't doing anything.

"Um, Woody?"

"Should we make a break for it, guys? Guys?"

"Woody, what should we do?"

"What's the plan?"

"What a bum! I toldya so, didn't I, Woody?"

"Woody?"

"_Would you take those toys to the trash?"_

The decision was soon made for them as Mrs. Davis lifted the black bag and lugged it down to the street. That got Buzz's attention, and within seconds he was out of the bag. He reached in and pulled the others out one by one, counting them. "Mr. Potatohead. Mrs. Potatohead. Martians 1,2,3. Hamm. Slinky. Rex. Buzz, where's Buzz… Hey, where's – oh, right. That's everyone except Woody. Woody?"

After a couple of shouts, the cowboy doll emerged, clambering nimbly over the folds of black plastic while carefully holding his hat to his head.

"Here! Sorry, Buzz. Couldn't hear you. So, what's the plan?"

"The box in the back of the car," Buzz replied, pointing. "It's on its way to Sunnyside Daycare Center. We can regroup there and figure out our next move."

"Good idea, Buzz." He clapped his friend on the shoulder. "We'll be back at Andy's in no time."

"Um, Woody…" But Woody was already gathering the others, herding them towards the trunk of the car.

…

It was a good fifteen minutes of silent waiting before Mrs. Davis got in the car and started it. AS soon as the engine had grown loud enough to cover voices, Buzz rounded on Woody.

"_What did you say?" _he hissed.

"We have to get back to Andy's." Woody said it slowly, as if explaining to a child. "It'll be easy. We just need to keep track of where this daycare is and sneak back at night. We can climb the tree in the backyard and –"

"Andy?" Slinky scoffed. "He doesn't want us anymore?"

"Wha- what are you saying? Who told you that?"

"He did!" Jessie snapped. "Didn't you hear him?"

"Whoa, whoa, I think you guys misheard. All I heard was Andy asking his mother to take something out to the trash. He was probably talking about that radio. Remember? The one that never worked unless you balanced a paper clip on it? He promised his mom he'd get rid of it months ago and never did." He sounded so matter-of-fact about it that they almost believed him. Almost.

"But Woody, he said 'toys!'"

"Really, cause I didn't hear – did any of you hear him say 'toys?'" Everyone nodded. "That's crazy! He said, 'Would you take those out to the trash?' There was a hole in the bag! I saw him pointing at something _in his room. _We were by the attic stairs. C'mon, guys! You know Andy'd never just dump us like that. Honestly!" There was no point in arguing with him, so they let the subject drop. But they all looked at one another, and it was as if each toy could read the others' thoughts. In that moment it was clear that they all knew two things for certain.

They knew that Woody would never, ever accept that his owner didn't want him anymore.

And they knew what they'd heard.


	2. Chapter 2

"Well, hello there! I thought I heard new voices! Welcome to Sunnyside, folks! I'm Lots-o'-Huggin' Bear! But, please, call me Lotso!"

"Buzz Lightyear. We come in pea-" The rest of his speech was lost in the folds of the bear's hug.

"First thing you gotta know about me… I'm a hugger! Oh, look at y'all! You've been through a lot today, haven't you?"

"Oh, it's been horrible!" Mrs. Potatohead interjected.

"Well, you're safe now. We're _all _cast-offs here – we been dumped, donated, yard-saled, second-handed, and just plain thrown out. But just you wait – you'll find being donated was the best thing that ever happened to ya!"

As Lotso answered the other toys' questions, Woody drew Buzz aside.

"I don't like this, Buzz. We shouldn't be getting comfortable here."

"Why not?"

"Because we're _Andy's _toys!"

"Not anymore." He walked back to join the others.

"Wh-what do you mean, not anymore?" Woody trailed after him anxiously, one hand to his head as he continued arguing. By the time they'd rejoined the tour group, everyone had heard exactly what they were fighting about.

Lotso stepped forward, casually putting an arm around Woody's shoulder. "So you got donated by this 'Andy,' huh? Well, it's his loss, Sheriff! He can't hurt you no more."

Woody couldn't help but think that the four "whoa"s he got in before being cut off didn't quite express his indignation. He continued to follow the group, interjecting whenever possible, trying to make them see that they were still _Andy's _toys, and that nothing would change that.

Finally, they were deposited in a corner of the Butterfly Room designated for new arrivals and left alone.

"OK. Group meeting, now!" The others gathered around, chattering excitedly about the facilities at Sunnyside. They quieted down when Woody whistled.

"Look, everyone, it's nice here, I admit. But we need to go home…!"

Jessie stepped forward. "We can have a whole new life here, Woody. A chance to make kids happy again." At that, the others chimed in:

"Why don't you stay?"

"Yeah, Woody! Stay with us!"

"Come on, Woodster!"

"You'll get _played _with…!"

"Stay here!"

"You can make a _new _kid happy!" Jessie finished.

"I can't! No, no! Guys, really, no!"

The others didn't speak as he regained his composure. "I _have _a kid. _You _have a kid – Andy! And if he wants us at college, or in the attic, well, then our job is to _be there _for him! Now I'm going home! Anyone wants to join me is welcome! C'mon, Buzz!" Woody started to walk away. Buzz didn't move. "Buzz…?"

He walked forward and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Our mission with Andy's complete, Woody."

"What?"

"And what's important now is we stay together."

"We wouldn't even _be _together if it weren't for Andy! Look under your foot, Buzz! You too, Jessie! Whose name is written there?"

To everyone's surprise, Rex was the next to speak. "Maybe Andy doesn't care about us any more?"

"Of course he does! He cares about _all _of you! He was throwing out the radio – I saw! You can't just turn your back on him now!"

"Woody – wake up!" Jessie snapped. "It's over! Andy is all grown up!"

"Okay, fine! Perfect! I can't believe how selfish you all are. So this is it? After all we've been through?"

Buzz feebly offered a handshake, but Woody just walked away.

…

Moments after Woody left, the children came back. They were everything Lotso had promised – young, imaginative, friendly. The toys hadn't had so wonderful a playtime in ten years. They were still chatting about it hours afterwards.

"Wow, that was great!" shouted Jessie. "That girl who had me save Hamm from the Martians-"

"And the boy who knew all about dinosaurs!"

"And the dress-up with Ken, and-"

"Heh, heh, what do I always say, Ken? New toys. Best sight in the world, always so excited about things here. Hey, fellas! How're y'all settlin' in?"

"Oh, fine, Lotso," Buzz piped up.

"Say, where's your friend? The nervous one, some sorta cowboy…?"

Buzz rubbed his neck awkwardly. "He… Well, he left."

"Wha – now, why'd he do that?"

"He wanted to go back to Andy."

"Your old owner?"

"Yes, well, Woody doesn't believe that Andy intended to throw us away."

Lotso lowered his voice and assumed a gentler manner. "Did he?"

Buzz thought about it for a moment. "Yes. I'm certain of it."

"And how certain is your friend?"

"Woody… doesn't want to accept that Andy has outgrown him. He says he saw something we didn't, but I'm not sure."

"None of us are," Rex unhelpfully added.

"Well, it seems to me like the thing to do is find him and let him prove it to ya himself. We'll be here when you get back." Buzz still looked uncertain. "Besides, you're not gonna be sure until you know the truth, are ya?"

"No, I suppose not. Thank you, Lotso."

"Anytime."

As the old bear wheeled away, Buzz turned to the others. "Right. This is a highly dangerous mission, requiring the traversal of several blocks, repeat several blocks. Any who wish to remain here are welcome to do so. Who's with me?"

Almost every hand went up. (Rex's would've gone up, but his arms were too tiny for it.)

"Excellent." Buzz grinned. "We'll meet back here at oh six hundred and depart at oh six thirty."

"What's that mean?" whispered Rex.

"Six in the morning," groaned Hamm. "Oh, great."

* * *

**Special thanks to my reviewers, koryandrs and eyelandria13, who have both reviewed a ton of my stories and given me some help in writing this one. (I should probably also mention Joblo, the site I used for reading the Toy Story 3 transcript. A lot of the dialogue is lifted directly from it because I wanted a connection with canon.)**

**It looks like this is going to round off faster than I originally thought. I guess that all those one-shots have made me ill-equipped for larger stuff. Sorry about that.**


	3. Chapter 3

The wall outside the daycare was easily ten feet high, so Woody waited until after the kids went home to leave. It was awful to wait just outside the rooms where he could hear children playing with his friends, but his patience was rewarded: the front pathway was deserted. He raced along the asphalt and ducked into a bush by the road to consider his next move.

He carefully retraced the steps of the car ride over. _"Okay. We went left, right, right, straight for a while, left… I should've drawn a picture. Maybe I can ask for directions." _Obviously, he'd need to find a place with either a map or toys who knew the way.

He began to walk down the street, watching each house he passed for signs of young inhabitants. Balls and toys in the yard would be the clearest indicator, but there could be other signs.

Night had fallen by the time he heard a loud, insistent voice, demanding to stay up until midnight.

He carefully followed the sound for about forty feet, finally coming to a large yellow house with an attached garage. The voice was clearly emanating from a lighted window on the second floor, where he presumed the girl's room was. After casting about for a few minutes, he noticed a small birch tree tilting disconsolately towards the building. He raced towards it and began to climb, thankful that the papery bark was both loose enough to provide plenty of handholds and strong enough to support a light toy's weight. (His only difficulty was in keeping his hat, which he soon shifted to his teeth for convenience.)

Halfway up the tree, the voices of the arguing parent and child died down and the window went dark. _"Good. I'll have my chance as soon as she falls asleep." _He well remembered the days when Andy, after protesting for 30 minutes or more, would drift off almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. Shaking himself out of his reverie, he turned his mind back to the task at hand. The window above him didn't go to the girl's room, but it was open. He slipped in, careful to avoid being silhouetted in the moonlight for more than a second.

He was in the master bedroom. Hearing footsteps, he clung to the shadows as a woman, presumably the girl's mother, walked in. With the low groan of an exhausted parent, she sank into the bed next to her sleeping husband. Woody waited for five tense minutes until her breathing audibly deepened. Unbidden, a picture of Andy's mother popped into his head. She'd always ended up picking up his toys, no matter how many times she told him to clean up after himself. She was always worn out, but she was seldom anything but attentive with her son's possessions.

"Don't worry, Andy," he muttered. "I'm coming back." He leapt to the floor, wincing at the faint thump of his impact. He straightened and looked for the door.

He was a few feet down the hallway before he heard the skittering footsteps. He went limp just as the dog rounded the corner. Woody had seen dogs before, of course. The Davis family had had at least two. But this dog was… large. Easily two and a half feet high, probably three. And it was growling.

"Hey," he whispered. "You look friendly. I love dogs. Easy, boy. Easy." He tried to back away slowly, but the rising growl turned into a short bark and he could hear one of the parents shift in sleep. He froze. The dog didn't. Then it began to walk closer.

"Come on, now. Easy, easy. Hey!"

…

"Where do you think he went, Buzz?"

"It can't have been far. He only left yesterday."

"I can't believe I had to get up this early when we don't even know where we're going."

"Shut up, Hamm. We need to find Woody. So what do we do, Buzz?"

He had to admit that it was kind of annoying having everyone else asking him for advice. He hadn't liked it much back when Woody was kidnapped by Al. Now, standing at the curb by the daycare, he realized he still didn't. Besides, back at Al's, he hadn't had Jessie distracting him.

"He'll be going in the general direction of Elm St. Does anyone know where that is?"

"Oh, I do! I do! Wait, is Elm St where Big Bird lives?"

"No, that's Sesame St. We're looking for Elm St, people. Let's try to keep focused."

"Well, it looks like there are more houses that way and more apartments that way, so Elm Street is probably where the houses are."

"Good thinking, Jessie. North it is."


	4. Chapter 4

"Psst. Hey, you! _Psst!"_

Woody peered up at the speaker, a redheaded doll with a profusion of freckles, at least some of which had been drawn on with marker. He unsteadily found his feet and put his (suspiciously moist) hat back on.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"My name's Woody. I'm trying to get back to my owner. Got a map or something?"

"We can use a smartphone. Molly's mom has one on the kitchen table. Come on, Rusty'll be back any minute!"

With a terse nod, he scrambled after her. The next few minutes were both unbearably long and dazedly short. Slipping from shadow to shadow, they slowly got through the hall, down the stairs, to the kitchen door.

"Sorry about Rusty, by the way," she whispered. "He thinks every toy is for him unless he sees Molly playing with it."

"Doesn't he have dog toys?"

"Yeah, but he likes playing with stuffed things more. Molly's mom gets a whole bag of toy animals from the church every year. Come on, coast's clear!"

After taking a moment to process his shock and terror, Woody followed her into the room. The chairs at the table made it easy, if not particularly clean, to get up. (Woody noted the mess around what must've been Molly's seat with fond amusement.) The phone had an obnoxiously loud start-up tone, which caused both toys to flinch and look towards the door. After two minutes of loading and irritated muttering, the doll managed to open the GPS.

"Where-"

"234 Elm Street," he quickly rattled off.

A yarn eyebrow went up in surprise, then the doll turned her attention back to the phone. "'Kay. It looks like that's about… wow, that's a long way. You might want to get started." She showed him the picture.

"Right. I'll get going right away. Thanks a ton." He hopped nimbly over the dishes in the sink to a small window. After struggling to open it, eh turned around. "Hey, sorry I didn't ask earlier, but what's your-"

She had already left.

…

"OK, we're officially lost."

"Shut up, Hamm. Where are we, Rex?"

The dinosaur took another look at the map they had snagged from a drugstore. "Sorry, but I'm going to have to agree with Hamm on this one. We're lost."

"That's impossible! The map said we'd pass a burger place two blocks ago, and we did."

"Um, Buzz, there might be more than one burger place around here."

"Don't be ridiculous. We're going the right way. We just need to keep going."

Jessie rolled her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. It was becoming increasingly obvious that Buzz was nervous, and when Buzz was nervous, he tended to slip into the comforting discipline of his Space Ranger persona, who wasn't about to admit they were lost. "Um, Buzz."

"Yes?"

"We're in unfamiliar… terrain. Perhaps one of us should go up higher and… scout for danger. Plus, we could try to spot any landmarks, to see- to see if we're getting close."

Buzz knew an out when he heard one. "Of course. It's your plan. Proceed."

"Sure. Hold my hat, willya?"

He awkwardly took the hat and watched her look around for a place to climb. Then he noticed a few of the others looking at him expectantly. "Everyone else wait while Jessie gets a better look!"

As the others pulled to a grateful stop, Jessie shimmied up a utility pole. When she reached the top, she leaned out and peered out over the horizon.

"Alright, I think I see Andy's school," she shouted. "It has a slate roof, right?"

"Yes!" Buzz shouted back. "Does the playground have a cargo net?"

"They all do!' snapped Mr. Potatohead. "Hey, Jessie, does it have one of those fake rocks to climb?"

"I, um, lemme check!" She couldn't see around a particularly bushy willow, so she leaned out farther. Seeing that that wouldn't work, she edged out onto the electrical wire, holding onto the pole with one hand. "Yeah, it looks like – yes! Definitely a fake rock! It's Andy's playground! That means that Andy's house is just a couple of blocks that…" In her enthusiasm to point, she let go of the pole and began to slip.

"Jessie!"

"I'm alright, Buzz!" she yelled back, trying to ignore that she was dangling from the wire. With difficulty, she managed to swing back on to her feet.

"Ha! Made it! Hey, wait!" She toppled to the ground, arms pinwheeling, and landed in a nearby bush.

"I'm okay, I'm okay!" She was still a bit flustered, and she didn't object to Buzz's help in emerging from the bush. "Anyway, Andy's house should be that way."

"You heard her. That way it is."

"What, you mean 90 degrees away from where we were going?"

"Eh, shut up, Slinky."

Slinky would've pointed out that Hamm would well have said the same thing given the chance, but they were already a ways behind. They both put on a burst of speed to catch up with the others.


	5. Chapter 5

'_Finally!'_

It had taken the better part of two days to make sense of the directions, he'd gotten lost twice. his stitches were starting to come loose in one arm, he was soaked through from a recent rainstorm, and he'd been attacked by a Rottweiler on the way over (Buster aside, he was really starting to hate dogs). But it was worth it. He could see the house ahead. 234 Elm St. Home. Andy's home, where he and Buzz and Jessie…

'_Better not focus on that. I'm here. That's what counts.'_

The last twenty feet were comparatively easy. (Of course, it helped that he'd done this before.) He raced across the lawn, vaulted through the old cat door they'd put in for Buster (he loved dogs), and raced up the stairs as fast as he could.

'_Alright, it's only been three days. Andy's not due to leave until Monday. He'll be here.'_

It wasn't until he reached the door to Andy's room that he began to feel… not hesitant, exactly, but as though there was something not quite right going on. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was a part of him that didn't want to see Andy again, that was afraid.

'_This is absurd. Andy loves you. Just power on through.'_

After making sure that no one was awake inside, he slipped in the door, positioned himself at the foot of the bed, and went limp.

…

The other toys' luck hadn't been much better than Woody's. Sure, they'd avoided the Rottweiler and found somewhere reasonably dry for the rainstorm, but Jessie had to keep going up to high places to correct their course, and it turned out that the direct route wasn't nearly so direct as they would've liked. For one thing, it seemed like every other street corner was next to a highway, and highways were always too crowded for safety. To make matters worse, Slinky and Hamm would not _shut up, _and Buzz was clearly running out of patience.

As he spun around to tell Rex for the umpteenth time that they couldn't afford to take too many breaks, he heard a loud whoop.

"We're here! We're here! Andy's house, we're finally here!"

Buzz breathed a sigh of relief as the other toys took up Jessie's boisterous shout. He had no idea how Woody could've done this alone in the years before he arrived.

"OK, team. We're within sight of our objective, but remember that it's daylight. We can't risk being seen, least of all by Andy." That sobered them up. "Now we need a plan of entry. I'm going to divide you into two teams, one to search for Woody and one to-"

"Um, Buzz?"

"_Yes, _Rex?"

"I don't think we'll need to look for Woody inside the house." Rex couldn't raise his arms high enough to point, so he gestured towards the shiny metal cans by the side of the road.

…

Woody looked awful. That was the only word for it. He was wet and covered in mud and his right arm was hanging by a thread, which he was inexplicably picking at.

"Cut that out." He couldn't think of anything else to say, and it came out as more of a dull comment than an order, but Woody let his left arm drop to his side. He didn't make eye contact.

Buzz waited for a few minutes for someone else to say something, then realized that he was the only one who hadn't been stunned into silence. "What happened?"

"He threw me out. That's all, he just…" He made an absentminded circling motion with his right arm, as if trying to force himself to continue. "… He just threw me out. I guess I didn't think of what I'd look like, when I, um, when I came back." There was another awkward pause.

"Woody. He was going to throw you out anyway."

"I know that! I-I know that. Except I… didn't know that, or at least I didn't want to know that. I heard every word, you know? 'Would you take those toys to the trash?' _Those toys. _I just couldn't, couldn't believe it. I mean, Andy… he –he cared about us."

Buzz walked forward and put a hand on his shoulder. "Yes, he did."

Woody covered his face with his hand, and it took them all a moment to realize that he was crying. Buzz was still milling around awkwardly patting his shoulder when Jessie moved in and hugged him. One by one, the other toys moved forward and joined her. Woody was audibly sobbing by now, but his embarrassment about crying was starting to overpower his sadness. He stopped and hesitantly pulled away.

Buzz and Jessie eyed each other as the rest of the toys withdrew. _'It's best not to push him right away,' _they thought in unison. Neither of them questioned the telepathic quality of it, or of Jessie's gesture towards Woody. Buzz nodded and approached the cowboy again.

"Come on. We should be getting back to Sunnyside." He knew better than to call it home right away.

But it could be, given time.


	6. Chapter 6

"Ow. Ow. Ow!"

"Sorry, buddy. Youse keep movin'. Hold still, willya?"

After shooting a quick glare at the policeman doll stitching his arm, Woody turned back to face Lotso.

"So… Buzz told me you wanted to see me."

"Yes, as a matter of fact I do." While retaining its usual deep timbre, Lotso's voice had lost its volume. "Now Woody, Buzz has been tellin' me that you were a little… _put out_… after you went back to see Andy."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I understand, I understand. Keep in mind, though, that every toy here has gone through the same thing at one time or another."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Look, I get where you're comin' from. Why, when my owner-"

"I _said_ I don't want to talk about it!" Realizing how rude he was being, he quietly added, "Sorry. I just… just drop it, please?"

"Sure." The bear shifted his cane and relaxed in his chair. The next few minutes were spent in silence. The only sound was the _skritch skritch _of the black thread being pulled tight. Every time a thread was tugged, Woody winced a little with the pain. (He couldn't help but think that the toy doing it had none of Andy's gentleness.)

When the toy finished stitching, he began to wash off the mud. Woody would've relaxed at that point were he not aware of a pair of googly eyes watching him. He could only ignore it for a couple of minutes before he propped his head up on one hand.

"I don't suppose that you're going to leave anytime soon?"

"Nope."

"Did Buzz put you up to this?"

"No."

"Fine."

"Um, officer, could we have a minute, if you don't mind?" Lotso asked the attendant, who turned and left with a sarcastic mutter.

Woody sat up and flexed his arm. "He's charming," he said, pointing.

"Eh, Gus isn't so bad. You just have to learn to get used to him. Like your friend with the snout. What's his name…?"

"Hamm."

"Right, Hamm. I'll get it down sooner or later, just you wait."

"Hmm."

Woody was pleased to note that, while painful and roughly done, the stitches were even and strong. He supposed he owed the other toy – Gus – an apology.

"How long's he been doing this, anyway?"

"Since he got here, about. He's been here goin' on ten years now."

"How'd he get here?"

"That's really his business. 'Sides, I think we've got something more interestin' to talk about." Woody kept rubbing the arm, more meditatively than diagnostically. "So, what d'ya want to tell me about your owner? Andy, was it?"

"Yeah, Andy." The stitching wasn't perfect, he noted. There were gaps where a little stuffing was showing through. Perhaps Gus did touchup after cleaning. "I'm kind of an old toy, so most people think I'm a hand-me-down. I'm not, though. I was in packaging for a while, I think. Andy was my first owner.

He always liked cowboys. He got me for Christmas when he was about five, and right away, I was his favorite. I mean, Buzz was his favorite back when he was new, and I was really jealous for awhile, but even then…

We used to play this game, where the hero would fight the bad guy with his sidekick and get the girl at the end. I know it's an old game, but Andy would always make it special. He had a great imagination. He could have Mr. Potatohead throwing his extra feet at Hamm while Slinky rappelled me and Buzz back over a cliff. And no matter who he had playing the bad guy, or the sidekick, or the girl, or the super death laser, I'd be the hero. No matter what. Even Buzz wasn't always a good guy."

Lotso's only response was to gesture at him to keep going.

"Of course, Jessie saw it coming ages before I did. I always told myself I'd be okay with it when it happened, but there was some part of me that just thought that it'd never happen. I know it sounds selfish, but I thought that even if we lost Bo, and Wheezy, and even Buzz someday, I'd always be with Andy. I even told myself that he might take me to college. Can you imagine that? 'Big Toy on Campus.' Yeah, right. The others would just make fun of him.

Even when he put us in the trash bag, I thought it'd be okay. _'He's just going to put us in the attic.' _I was sure of it. Even when his mom brought us out to the trash I thought that it was just a misunderstanding, that he still – that he still loved us.

That's why when we got here I couldn't – I couldn't believe that we'd be staying. I mean, it sounds nice to have hundreds of kids who love you, and never having to go without being played with, but it's not…" He gestured uselessly, trying to catch the rest of the sentence with a flick of the wrist.

"It's not the same as having a kid who thinks you're special," Lotso finished. Woody nodded. "Look, I can't lie to ya. Here, you'll never be any kid's favorite toy. I mean, you might be someone's first choice from the toy bin, but they'll always have toys they love more at home. You can't always be for them here."

"Then what's the point?"

"The point is that they can't bring their toys from home here. They need something to play with here, too, and they'd just lose their own toys. Sure, we're always second best, but that's better than nothing, and in a way, we're just as important to them." Woody didn't even look up to respond. "I know you can't see it all at once, but there's a fine life for you here. You can be important here, too." He glanced up at the colorful clock on the wall. "I've gotta get goin'. Gus'll finish patching you up."

Lotso struggled to his feet and called for Gus. "See if you can get the rest of those rips fixed," he murmured. Before he left, he turned to Woody again. "Think about it, 'kay? I can guarantee you'll be glad you did."

Woody could only shrug noncommittally, leaving the old bear to limp out with a sigh.


	7. Chapter 7

The first few weeks were… difficult, to say the least. There were large overstuffed chairs and couches in the daycare's rooms, and somehow Woody found himself underneath them whenever the children came in. He insisted, at least to himself, that he wasn't hiding. Rather, he was preparing for his new life and happened to have unfortunate timing. To the others, he saw no point in addressing it, as they no doubt had their own theories, to which his own indignant vituperations would only lend strength.

After the kids left, he would retreat from the playrooms altogether to rest in the front office, whose stale pastel colors and neatly sorted papers made it difficult to remember what the building was for.

Buzz, for his part, watched this self-alienation with increasing concern. Lotso continually insisted that Woody just "needed time," but he wasn't sure. He reluctantly settled back to see if things got better on their own, certain that they wouldn't -

- which is why he hardly noticed when they did. It started small: interactions with other toys, rides on Bullseye to explore the dark filing rooms behind the front desk. Then, somehow, the "exploration" started to cover rooms with toys in them, the playground, rooms with their purposes proclaimed by tiny, sticky fingerprints. The first time he stayed in the same room as them at night, Buzz overlooked it. The first time he laughed, Buzz was certain he had imagined it.

…

One day in late November, Woody "happened" to be out in the open when recess ended. At the shout of, "Hey! There's a sheriff here, too!" Buzz sat up. An olive-skinned, pudgy boy was busily erecting a makeshift frontier town from coloring books and empty Play-Doh canisters. He would've watched further, but he remembered that he was supposed to be still and sheepishly went limp. (Frankly, he was lucky he wasn't seen, as Jessie lectured him halfheartedly later.) By then, he knew better than to approach his friend right away. Rex, Hamm, and Slinky were not quite so tactful.

"Hey, you did it, Woody!"

"How'd it feel to get played with again? I bet it felt pretty good, eh?"

"Will you be here again tomorrow?"

Woody managed to escape with a few noncommittal monosyllables. He was back at the front desk by nightfall. So was Buzz.

"Want me to come back to the Butterfly Room?"

"Not tonight. I still need to talk to the guys about –"

"I don't mind that."

He took a step back in surprise. "Are you sure? Then why are you –"

"I'm thinking." Sunnyside was almost black at night; the streetlights outside were more than bright enough for the toys to see through the glass. The front yard was brown where it wasn't grey with concrete.

"About Andy?"

"No, about pickles. Yes, about Andy… Sorry, Buzz."

"No problem. I get worse from Hamm." There was another pause as they contemplated the dark sky, washed to grey by light pollution. "You know that they just want you back, right?"

"I know. It's just… going to take awhile, you know?"

"Sure." Another pause. It was getting awkward, looking out at nothing, so Woody started to play with one of the cloth petals on a fake daisy kept by the secretary to disappoint little botanists. "None of us will forget Andy. He was our first kid."

"Well, yeah, but… it was different for me, somehow."

"Well, duh… Sorry, that wasn't a real answer. It's just so obvious."

Woody scratched his forehead. "I was his favorite."

"You'll always be special to him."

"I hope so."

Having run out of things to say, Buzz pretended to be interested in the designs on the side of the false flower's pot. They were a garish yellow that no doubt looked worse in daylight.

Woody pulled himself to his feet. "Alright. Let's go." He walked past Buzz to the edge of the counter.

"Where?"

He turned around. "The Butterfly Room. Race ya there."

By the time the last sentence had sunk in, Woody was almost out of the room. "Hey, no fair! You had a head start!"

"Oh, is the mighty Buzz Lightyear giving up already?"

"Not a chance." The stapler at the edge of the desk made a phenomenal springboard to a rolling cart, and one space-themed catchphrase later, the two friends were neck and neck, each determined to beat the other home.

* * *

**And that's it! I'm sorry that I can't seem to write long stories, and they're getting shorter and shorter, but I was planning to end this one two chapters ago, and the writing is suffering. Thanks to everyone who reviewed.**


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